


Arms to Hug and Ears to Listen

by icandrawamoth



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: New Republic Era - All Media Types
Genre: Alderaan, Bathing/Washing, Birthday, Bubble Bath, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fusion of Star Wars Legends and Disney Canon, Gentle Kissing, Gentleness, Holding Hands, I Will Go Down With This Ship, M/M, Married Couple, Memorials, Self-Indulgent, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-03 19:13:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13347684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icandrawamoth/pseuds/icandrawamoth
Summary: It's Tycho's thirty-first birthday and the tenth anniversary of Alderaan's destruction. Wedge does his best to make his husband's day bearable.





	Arms to Hug and Ears to Listen

**Author's Note:**

> It's my birthday, so I wrote some birthday-flavored hurt/comfort for the ol' OTP. That's how this is supposed to work, right? ;)  
> Title from [this](https://favim.com/orig/201104/27/Favim.com-25710.jpg), which I really love in relation to this fic.

Wedge is used to waking up alone. Tycho has always been the early-riser of the two of them, so he thinks nothing of it when he eases into consciousness, stretching luxuriously in the empty bed. Surely Tycho has gone off to the gym or is making breakfast or-

And then Wedge remembers what day it is, sitting up suddenly.

He finds he's not as alone as he thought. Tycho is in the room, stiffly standing with his back to Wedge as he gazes out the window at the sun rising over Republic City, datapad clutched in his hands.

“Tycho.” Wedge murmurs his husband's name as he pulls back the covers and pads across the room.

The blond half-turns to look at him, one corner of his lips quirking just a little, but there's more sadness on his face than usual. For good reason. “Morning, dear heart.”

Wedge wraps his arms around him from behind, kissing him on the cheek before resting his chin on his shoulder. “The list?” he asks quietly.

Tycho glances back down at the datapad, nods silently.

The list. The names of every soul lost when Alderaan was destroyed, readily accessible at any time, of course, but always filling the Holonet on the anniversary. And Tycho reads it every time, dutifully finding the names of those he lost as if he owes them.

“It's hard to believe it's been ten years,” Tycho says softly, his voice heavy. “Sometimes it still feels like yesterday.”

Wedge holds him just a little closer, wishing like always there was something he could do to take this pain for him. And the fact that it shares the day with Tycho's birth, takes even that bit of happiness from him...it's not fair.

Tycho shakes his head, disengaging from Wedge and turning to face him. “We should get ready. We still have responsibilities.”

Wedge's fingers find his cheek, drawing him in for a gentle kiss, and Tycho sinks into it, letting the touch linger, and Wedge knows he understands and appreciates the gesture for the comfort it's meant to be.

Finally they part, heading for the kitchen and breakfast together. “Are you going to at least let me take you out for lunch?” Wedge asks lightly.

“I have a ton of papers to grade,” Tycho tells him. “I'm just going to eat in my office.”

Wedge doesn't argue. “Okay. I can make dinner?” He won't ask about them going out after the memorial service scheduled for that afternoon; he doubts either of them will be up for it.

“If you like. You don't have to do anything special.”

Wedge leans across the table for a kiss. “I want to.”

* * *

Wedge loves his life. The peace that's come to the galaxy now that the Empire has been defeated. His position as commandant of the New Republic flight academy on Hosnian Prime. He enjoys teaching, especially now that the pressures of rushing pilots through training during wartime are off. He can take his time, and he can surround himself with other instructors whose teaching meshes with his. Instructors like Tycho, who is just as eager to gift his knowledge to the next generation. And the fact that this is just another facet of his life Wedge shares with man he loves makes it all the better.

That doesn't mean today doesn't drag by interminably slowly. Their separate classes and practice sessions keep the two of them apart, and Wedge wants anything but that now. He knows, intellectually, that Tycho is fine without him, that just because today is an anniversary doesn't mean the loss is any more painful than always. But it is closer to the surface. Wedge knows how the anniversary of his parents' deaths, of the battles of Yavin or Hoth or Endor or Jakku still prick even after all this time. He just wants to be by Tycho's side.

So he gets there as quickly as he can, popping into Tycho's office when lunch finally rolls around and finding him exactly as his husband had promised: head leaning on a palm as he scans through a stack of flimsiplast sheets, a sandwich sitting untouched by his side.

“I think you're actually supposed to eat on your lunch break,” Wedge teases.

Tycho looks up at him with a half-smile. “You're not.”

Wedge shrugs. “At least I'm not working.”

Tycho shakes his head ruefully. “I'm just getting ahead, Wedge. Not like you've never done it yourself.”

“I know.” Tycho's head goes back down as he returns his attention to the papers. Wedge's eyes drift to the three holos on the wall. One of the two of them, laughing as they push cake into each other's mouths at their wedding reception. One of Wuitho Trifalls, the famously beautiful Alderaanian landmark. One of Tycho and his family from before he left home for the Imperial Academy. Wedge finally gives voice to his worry. “Are you all right?”

Tycho looks up again, expression dimmed a bit but still reassuring. “I'd be lying if I said I was one hundred percent fine, but I'm okay, Wedge. I can get through the day.” He holds out a hand, and Wedge steps forward to take it. “Just knowing you're out there thinking of me helps.”

“I am.” Wedge bends to kiss his forehead, and Tycho leans into the gesture.

“I really do need to get this work done, love,” Tycho murmurs as they part. “Thanks for coming to see me.”

“Should I meet you here at the end of the day so we can head to the memorial together?”

“Yeah.” Tycho closes his eyes for a moment, a streak of pain across his face, before he looks back up at Wedge. “That's going to be hard,” he admits.

“I won't leave your side,” Wedge promises, squeezing his hand.

“I love you, you know,” Tycho says softly, and Wedge has to work to breathe around the sudden twinge in his chest. As if he should earn any sort of admiration for supporting his husband through this.

“I love you, too,” is all he says as Tycho disentangles their fingers to return to work, and Wedge makes himself leave the room.

* * *

The memorial is solemn but meant to be a source of peace and hope as well. It starts with a moment of silence, the hundreds of people gathered in a park in the center of Republic City soundless as they gaze at giant screens which project images of the lost planet. Rivers and oceans, wide grasslands, elegant cities. Not for the first time, Wedge wishes he would have been able to visit his husband's home.

Wordlessly, Tycho reaches for him, and Wedge takes his hand, laces their fingers together tightly.

The silence ends as Chancellor Mon Mothma steps up on the dais brought in for the event. She looks over the crowd, seeming to connect with each and every person before acknowledging the mass of hovercams. Her words, when she speaks, are gentle and articulate as usual, but heartfelt and sympathetic just the same.

She tells the story of where she was when she first heard the news, the incomprehension and terror she felt though she was not Alderaanian herself. She speaks, briefly and not disrespectfully, of the event's impact on the Rebellion and on the galaxy at large. Then she introduces the next speaker: Senator Leia Organa.

Leia takes the stage in a simple dark robe, and as the screens behind her change to show her face, Wedge thinks he can see her holding back emotion. As a former military leader and a politician, she's probably better at it than most. Her words are quieter than Mothma's as she recounts the day her planet fell, but even more earnest. Everyone knows the story of how she witnessed the atrocity from the bridge of the Death Star itself. Her voice quavers as she explains what it was like to see the beautiful, peaceful planet disintegrate before her eyes.

Tycho's hand shakes just a little in his, and when Wedge looks at him, he recognizes the expression on his face. It's one he's seen only a few times over the years: the one he gets when he's trying not to break and is about to fail. Wedge shifts, eases his arm around his husband's waist, and Tycho leans into him, warm against his side, and seems to steady. He gives Wedge a brief, grateful look before returning his attention to Leia.

When the story is finished, she takes a deep breath and smiles out at the crowd, soft and hopeful. She tells them that the Empire may have taken their planet, but it could never destroy Alderaan entirely. People survived, their culture survived, they struggled to do that much and succeeded. Finally, she introduces the other reason this assemblage is happening: the opening of the new Alderaanian Heritage Museum. A center of remembrance and learning dedicated to the lost planet, holding cultural artifacts, crafts, and histories, open to all to keep knowledge and culture alive.

Soon, the speeches are over, there's a ribbon-cutting, and then the crowd begins to disperse, many of them headed toward the museum. As soon as it's proper, Wedge pulls his husband into his arms, Tycho coming easily, hiding his face in Wedge's neck for a long moment. “You're sure you want to go alone?” Wedge asks, not questioning really, but confirming.

They'd talked about this before. This first time, Tycho wants to go into the museum by himself, and Wedge thinks he understands. As much as he tries to be there for Tycho at times like this, he's not Alderaanian himself. When it comes down it, he has no idea how his husband feels, no clue what it means to be a person whose entire world is gone. He wants to be there for Tycho, always, but he also wants to give him what he needs.

“I'm sure,” Tycho confirms softly, and when he meets Wedge's eyes, he looks shaken but determined. He grips Wedge's arms for another moment. “I'll be all right. I won't be alone.”

He won't be. He'll be with others who can understand what he's dealing with far better than Wedge can. “Should I wait?”

“Go home,” Tycho tells him. “I might be awhile.”

“Take all the time you need. I'll see you later, dear heart.”

They part with a gentle kiss, and Wedge watches him walk toward the museum, pausing before the door to gather himself before disappearing inside.

* * *

When Tycho returns to their apartment a few hours later, his expression is tired and sad but somehow content as well. He steps into Wedge's waiting embrace, resting against him for a long moment until Wedge murmurs in his ear, “I have something for you.”

He takes Tycho's hand and leads him through the apartment, back to the bathroom. The lights inside are dimmed, a handful of candles flickering from where they rest on various surfaces. The deep tub has been filled and is topped with bubbles wafting a soft floral scent.

“Oh, Wedge.” Tycho turns to him, a soft smile growing on his face.

“You said you didn't want an actual present,” Wedge finds himself rambling. “But I thought, maybe after today... It's not silly?”

“It's not silly. It's beautiful, and this is why I love you.” Tycho takes Wedge's hand again, and together they step into the room.

“Let me,” Wedge says as he turns his husband to face him and starts to unbutton his jacket. Tycho does, and Wedge takes his time undressing him, setting each piece of clothing aside, greeting each patch of revealed skin with soft, reverent touches meant not to arouse but simply to comfort and soothe.

“You're spoiling me,” Tycho murmurs when he's finally naked, a soft, pretty flush on his features from the humidity of the room. “And we're not even in the tub yet.”

Wedge only smiles in response as he begins to strip off his own clothes, inelegant and hasty in comparison, which draws a quiet laugh from his husband. He feels warmth in his own cheeks and shrugs it off, taking Tycho's hand and gently tugging him over to the tub. Wedge climbs in first and draws Tycho after him, pleased as the long, content sigh the blond lets out as he sinks into the hot water, relaxing against Wedge's chest.

“Good?” Wedge murmurs, nuzzling against his hair as he wraps him in his arms.

Tycho only murmurs wordless pleasure, sliding deeper into the tub, stretching luxuriously.

For a while they just rest there, soaking together, quiet and content with each other at the end of a long day. But then Wedge feels a tremor go through his husband, sees it amplified on the waves of soap bubbles, and then Tycho is crying, the emotions seemingly eased from him by the warmth and comfort and safety of his surroundings. Not the big, gasping sobs Wedge has seen from him before that hurt so much, but a stream of near-silent tears that run down his face and drip into the water as he trembles. Wedge just holds him close, tilts his head against Tycho's in a silent _I'm here. I've got you._

After a little while, Tycho sniffles and whispers, “I'm sorry. I'm kind of ruining the romance here.”

“No, you aren't,” Wedge tells him, gentle but firm. “This is for you, Tycho. Whatever you need.”

Tycho gives a wet little laugh, and his hands grasp Wedge's under the water. “Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

“You did marry me,” Wedge answers softly.

Tycho shifts, water lapping silently at the sides of the tub as he turns to look up at his husband, blue eyes soft and wet, but there's contentment there, too. He seems to have calmed again. “One of the best decisions I've ever made,” he says with a tiny smile and leans in for a kiss.

As Wedge meets him, licking softly into his mouth to turn the kiss more intimate when Tycho opens for him, he can't articulate how much he agrees.

They part, and Tycho sighs quietly, relaxing back against Wedge again. Then one of his hands is moving, clasping one of Wedge's where they're still wrapped around his middle, and guiding it downward in a silent request. “I think I'd like a little of that romance now,” he murmurs, moaning softly when Wedge takes him in hand.

“I've got you,” Wedge promises, and means it in every way.


End file.
